


Wrong Number

by LadyBergamot



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: College AU, College Modern AU, Crush, Edeleth, F/F, Fluff, Modern AU, Pining, Unrequited Love, boobs are mentioned, nudity mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26802610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBergamot/pseuds/LadyBergamot
Summary: One day, Edelgard received a text from a wrong number about a stranger and a bra. Who knew that one ill-advised text message would mean so much more?[This short story was written for the Edeleth Black Eagles Lootbox: Spoilers of War f/f fic booklet]
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg & My Unit | Byleth, Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 13
Kudos: 96





	Wrong Number

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, surprise huh? With the close of the Spoilers of War Lootbox and the advent of the new one, I received permission to publish this piece on Ao3. 
> 
> I also decided to announce my departure from the project. Given how crazy life has been, I couldn't commit anymore time to such an extensive project. I wish the crew for Box 2.0 much luck and love! Thank you for having me!

El yawned as her head tipped towards the window. The chatter of her friends from the backseat didn’t do much for her headache, but the coolness of the tinted glass as rain pattered down from outside the car eased some of the tension.

On her lap, her phone sat untouched with the screen darkening from unanswered texts. The last message came from sender “B” and carried with it a facetious provocation.

_“You on your way?”_

_“Yeah…”_

_“Good. I was hoping to see someone cool at the party.”_

The words still fizzled in and out of El’s consciousness through the long car ride, prompting a barely concealed smirk from the otherwise taciturn honors student. Her friend, Dorothea, drove with her attention dangerously divided by the ruffians in the backseat, making her too busy to notice these strange fits of subdued giggling from her unusually quiet front seat passenger.

El was thankful to say the least. She didn’t want to have to explain why she was smiling to herself — the story would have been long winded and embarrassing enough.

Still, the message retained much of its charm despite her paranoia, and El couldn’t help but finally look forward to something in her otherwise uneventful first year at college. Her secret messenger, whom she conveniently nicknamed ‘B,’ definitely helped. At first, El chalked it up to a prank. Just thinking of it was enough to tug an even wider smile upon her lips.

It seemed so long ago now when she received that ludicrous message: “Hey, I think you left your bra here.’’

The sender was a string of unfamiliar numbers — one El definitely never texted before.

_“Who is this? And what are you doing with my bra?”_

Her response would make many a lady blush, but El was not like many ladies her age. She tackled the mystery with the blunt un-subtlety of a sledgehammer, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it. After more than an hour had passed without response, she sent an even more direct demand: “Answer me or I will press charges.” At the time, Edelgard had rummaged through her dressers to identify which of the bras must have been stolen.

Suddenly, the mysterious messenger was faster this time around, waiting a second rather than an hour to answer El’s threats.

_“Chill. Whoever this is, I think I just got the wrong number. My bad. Peace.”_

Wrong number?

_Wrong number?!_

In the present moment of El’s car ride, she could barely remember the heat that had seared her cheeks when she first read those words. She was so sure that someone was pulling a fast one on her, and though she normally regretted these short-tempered lapses in judgment, she now found it difficult to regret a memory that now had her heady with excitement. Her mysterious messenger “B” may have gotten the wrong number, and she may have accidentally texted the wrong conquest, but she found a snarky, ill-mannered text message buddy all the while. Now they have a chance to meet — for real this time.

* * *

_2:34 PM: “Who do you think you are? You can’t get away with boasting about stealing my underwear and pretending to have the wrong number!”_

_2:47 PM: “Look, I’m really sorry for the confusion. I hooked up with someone last night, and they left their bra. Thought I had the right number. Guess not.”_

_3:10 PM: “OH GOD I AM SO SORRY!”_

* * *

“B” wasn’t exactly a stranger to El. By the time El had realized that none of her undergarments were missing, the reddening tinge of the honors student’s fury had already cooled to a simmer. She took another glance at the mysterious messenger’s panicked, albeit subdued, apologies, and it took a third read for the realization to hit. Once the text messaging snafu had been cleared up, El was quick to send her profuse apologies.

B, for her part, found the entire exchange amusing. She was simply at her dorm, procrastinating her part of a senior research project. A barrage of pings from “Ms. Wrong Number” came, and B soon knew that truth prevailed. She was ready to bury the proverbial hatchet and move on, content to forget who exactly was the owner of the offending bra as she resumed her homework.

Still, she’d be lying if she denied that “Ms. Wrong Number” didn’t have a certain charm — the kind where a fiery tone and personality resonated even through text. B was quick to reassure her, texting “NBD” with the appropriate emojis before tapping her phone’s lock button. El’s response shot through with the speed of light, and before long the two decided to add each other on Instagram and Facebook. A quick glance at each other’s profiles sparked even more conversation, and soon the two chatted through the weirdness of never having met despite being in the same Poli Sci program at their university.

* * *

El nearly choked when “B” liked the candid photo Petra had taken of her during their coffee date.

“Edelgard, are you okay?!” Petra asked, strangely able to keep up her formal mannerisms despite the alarm in her voice.

El coughed through her matcha tea frappe with a mortified look in her eyes, snorting through her nose as her phone fell flat on her desk. “Y-yes! I’m fine,” she reassured Petra, quick to pull up the table napkins to cover up her embarrassment. The hot sting of a beverage exploding through her nose and throat couldn’t even compare to her red-faced embarrassment.

Petra eyed her friend with piqued, albeit concerned, interest. “What is the matter? Did you get some bad news?”

The question caught El off guard. She was still busy wiping away matcha stains on her newly shopped blouse. “No not at all! It’s just-…”

_It’s just,_ El thought to herself, she never imagined that “B” would ever interact with her again.

Since the bra-related texting mixup days prior, the two hadn’t texted or interacted. That is, they hadn’t directly communicated… Not that lack of communication stopped El, who passed her boredom in between classes and homework by casually scrolling through B’s social media accounts. B wasn’t a very avid poster. Sometimes photos and updates were few and far in between, but El was careful to not “like” anything. That would be weird, after all. She couldn’t bear the thought of B discovering her late night scrolling through all the latter’s high school and college photos. She had heard more savvy students call that sort of behavior “stalking,” and if El was doing anything, she was definitely _not_ stalking. Her browsing was a habit of curiosity — not fixation. All she had to do was-

El’s phone vibrated with a notification. “Cutie,” wrote one ‘Bee Eisner.’

“Edelgard? Are you there?” Petra asked, worried now that Edelgard seemed caught in a flustered trance.

The silver-haired freshman stared that thousand-yard stare, pupils dilated and hollow as her embarrassment reached a boiling point. El didn’t exactly know why she was so mortified, or terrified, or scared or-… no, none of those things seemed to be right! She didn’t know why she was being so… so….? What was the word?!

B was just one girl. Why did such a simple and, frankly, laconic compliment get to her?

* * *

It only took a few days for El to find out that B was _really_ into survival horror games. The latter had posted an insta story of a scene from some indie-made recreation of the cancelled _PT Silent Hills,_ captioned with B’s signature sardonic humor. The video story showed a small clip of a jump scare as the perspective-based protagonist opened the attic door.

“When people walk into my room without knocking,” wrote B for her caption. El presumed that B was, strangely enough, identifying with the poltergeist and not the protagonist whose perspective she controlled.

The sentiment was enough to make her chuckle audibly as she sat studying in the library. Her thumbs raced to the screen, ready to comment on the story with some pithy remark. Yet try as she might, none of the said remarks sounded particularly cool or pithy, so after many deleted attempts, El settled instead for the “eyes” emoji.

Dorothea had told her that sending emojis were the modern-day equivalent of the so-called “Lady’s Favour,” so she hoped the lone emote was aloof yet appeared interested enough. (Though El was quick to bite down on her lip and remind herself that her interest was _purely_ to be better friends.)

Yet in spite of being in the middle of a game, B was quick enough to respond.

“Just knock. I’m not like that demonic ghost,” she wrote. “I don’t bite.”

El stared at her screen for what must have been an endless second.

They have been texting for weeks now, and B’s minimalist prose was rather difficult to parse out. Her senior’s tone often trod the tenuous line between blasé and disarmingly candid, and El could never really get a read on it.

Sometimes, their exchanges were surprisingly heartfelt. They ranged from B texting El a funny poli sci-related meme to her willingly hearing El out on her academic troubles. Though they haven’t yet met in person, El found it easy to text B her unbidden thoughts — soft, whispered residues of her days and unspoken feelings — in the middle of the night. Now here they were: potentially _flirting_.

She made sure to wait until later that evening to respond.

10:01 PM: _“Presumptuous much? Who said I even wanted to come in?”_

10:01 PM: _“Well, if you change your mind, feel free to knock. My door could be open ;)”_

The response was ridiculous, and it made El guffaw to an embarrassingly loud extent. She caught herself looking askance in the privacy of her own dorm before turning back to her DMs with a barely repressed smile tugging at her lips.

* * *

El felt the whiplash of unforeseen heartbreak when she excitedly refreshed her Twitter feed. Class had just finished, and she wanted to catch her daily dose of B’s witty tweets.

A girl she had never seen before posted a selfie. She was attractive enough, oval-faced with milky smooth skin. Why was El seeing this? Her eyes scanned the page wildly for an explanation, stopping before the fine print that told all.

_“Bee ‘Himbo Stan’ Eisner liked this,”_ Twitter had so coldly explained.

In the replies of the selfie, B had already made her move: “Hot.”

El double tapped her phone’s home button and quickly swiped the app to a close. She let it drop with a loud thud on her desk before packing her things and rummaging through her belongings for her water bottle. There was a slight furl of El’s brow, and impatience seemed to seethe through her lip-biting habit as she went through the motions she usually would have gone through between classes.

_Oh well,_ El thought with subdued bitterness, she must have left her water bottle in her dorm.

This was no issue, after all. Though her mind stubbornly flashed back to the image of B’s candid reply to that photo on Twitter, El was determined to focus on the now and not let such a trivial thing occupy her thoughts any longer.

In that moment, she remembered that B’s only started texting her _because_ of a prior hookup. Who was she to presume that B was interested in her? The only compliment she ever received was “cutie,” which was a far cry from the decidedly bolder “hot.” The least she could do was promptly grab her things and go. There was no need to sit and simmer over the melodrama of Twitter likes and forgotten water bottles.

It didn’t matter that the girl in question was a friend of B’s, or that El was, once again, running wild with her imaginative insecurities.

* * *

11:04 PM. B: _“Hey, haven’t heard from you in a while?”_

11:11 PM. EL: _“Sorry. I’ve been busy.”_

11:11 PM. B: _“Yeah freshman year sucks a fat one :(“_

11:20 PM. B: _“lol”_

11:21 PM. B: _“Is everything ok?”_

11:21 PM. El: _“Yes, why do you ask??”_

11:21 PM. B: _“Nah just worried about you.”_

11:30 PM B: _“Hey, I know you just said you’re busy, but if you’re free, my friend’s throwing a party at her place tomorrow.”_

11:31 PM. El: “...”

11:31 PM. El: _“Is this an invitation?”_

11:32 PM. B: _“Great detective work.”_

11:32 PM. B: _“Lol it’ll be at 9. Bring a friend. About time I get to call you a nerd in person.”_

El stared bleary-eyed at her screen, breathless as the light blinded her in the darkness of her room.

11: 33 PM. El: _“I’ll be there”_

* * *

El wove through a cluster of bodies, dancing and talking with red solo cups in hand as music blared loudly against her ears.

She shuffled in place, perching close to a group of acquaintances who were more than happy to chat. El hardly knew the people she randomly chose as backup. Dorothea had been lost to a wave of admirers, Petra was… _somewhere_ , and Linhardt seemed to have found his way to more lackadaisical circles, so the barely familiar faces of her lab partners would have to suffice.

Her eyes scanned the crowds, attentive to passersby as they wedged themselves through the congested space of the house. Every other second, El would remember to feign motions that could pass for dancing. She was a little too self conscious to really put effort into it, but she didn’t want to appear stiff as a board either.

“Is that supposed to be some kind of dance?”

El whipped around, forgetting that she had a cup brimming with bright red vodka cran.

She heard the wet sloshy sound of the juice spilling all over the stranger before she realized her mistake.

“Oh — oh no!” El’s eyes widened with panic as the whole world seemed to stop. “I’m so sorry!” Her hand instinctively shot up to the stained lace of the other woman’s dress, padding it with her handkerchief as excuses, reassurances, and apologies spewed forth in reckless abandon. “I promise I’ll pay for your dry cleaning! I am so sorry. That was thoughtless of me. I’ve been so tired, and I was looking for someone. I simply had no idea that-”

Laughter. The sound of lilting, tapering laughter cut El’s panic-induced blathering to a halt. Her voice was softer than she had imagined, silken even.

By the time El’s eyes looked up from where the vodka cran had stained the bodice of her dress, she noticed how the reddish hue of the party lights shined so brightly on her dark, green-like hair. Even her deep blue eyes shone a warm, dusk-like pink beneath such multi-colored hues. El’s lips parted for a breathless and wordless second, reeling from the slow revelation.

Byleth Eisner, or “B” for short, smirked at her dress like some piece of art that needed her pithy evaluation. “Not bad, nerd,” she said with a nod of her head. “Of all the ways you could go for my boobs, this has to be the most creative one yet.”

El was stunned. Byleth stood before her in the flesh, laughing at the glaring stain on her dress with the softest looking smile she had ever laid eyes on. The words she had uttered barely registered. She was certain Byleth had spoken. She was certain that what she spoke were words that formed sentences and therefore conveyed meaning. So why couldn’t she say anything back? Why was she staring point blank, jaw hanging low like she was some sort of uncultured idiot?

_Speak El!_ Her mind was pleading with her, hoping to cling to the scant remains of her dignity.

“I-...” she stammered as she blinked back her surprise. “Byleth?”

“Jeez, relax!” Byleth chided warmly with that selfsame grin El had seen in so many pictures. “No need to call me by my legal name just because we’re talking in person now.”

El was not any less stunned by how casual Byleth was being. For one reason or another, she talked to her as if they were merely texting, joking and cajoling as she was wont to do.

Yet the relaxed manner of their first in-person encounter had the opposite effect: El was reeling. There was something surreal in the way her stomach seemed to soar and how her heart thrashed violently as it attempted to squeeze through her chest and beat louder than the music around them.

Her lower lip quivered in an effort to speak, but all she could manage was a pathetic, “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

First, she heard a snicker. Then Byleth cowed over and straight up laughed.

El stood frozen, mortified and unable to share in her mirth.

“Chill!” Byleth insisted after the second wave of giggling had tapered off. “It’s just a party.”

“Nevertheless,” El blurted out, conscious that she was literally incapable of dropping the formal tone, “I should help you with your dress. This is absolutely my fault and-”

“It’s not a big deal,” Byleth interrupted. “It’s just a cheap dress I got from Forever 21. They’re closing now, you know?”

Yet the joke all but flew over El’s head, who still fussed over the stain and poured out endless apologies and promises to pay her back the dress’s value and more.

“Listen, nerd,” the older woman cut in, “it’s _just_ a dress. No biggie. We’re here now, aren’t we?” She paused to grab hold of El’s hands, wrapping long fingers around her lithe wrist in an effort to stop them from flailing. “Besides, what’s a party if I’m not getting all kinds of shit stuck on my dress?”

_Is that a rhetorical question?_ El almost asked, but self-control seized the day and stopped her from blubbering on with more embarrassing nonsense.

For a moment, the two were caught in a standstill. Byleth seemed content to stand there, her once wide smile softening to a more tightlipped silence as El stood flush with wordless shame.

Through the weeks they’ve been texting and talking, Byleth would never have guessed just how shy the infamous Edelgard von Hresvelg would be. Indeed, she was the talk of their small prestigious university: beautiful, descended from a powerful family, and a prodigy to top it all.

She had gleaned some hints of how timid she could be through some stilted texts, but at that moment she was standing before a girl — a girl who was nothing but small, afraid, and a little bit cute given her pink complexion.

“Hey,” Byleth piped up, “let’s get out of here.” Her hand tightened around El’s wrists. “I wanna show you something.”

* * *

“Canonnball!”

Byleth’s naked figure was a blur as she raced past the timid Edelgard. Her footsteps clamored over the shaky floorboard of the pier before jumping off the ledge and landing with a violent splash into the previously undisturbed lake.

“Are you crazy?!” El ran to the ledge, hugging herself against the cold as she searched the dark, moonlit waters for her friend.

In the dark, she heard Byleth let out a sharp gasp for air. Her hand splashed as she broke the surface, paddling her way back to the pier where the shivering Edelgard looked with horror at what she had done.

“Come on in! Water’s fine!” she egged on, laughing all the while.

“You _are_ crazy!” El yelled back. “You could freeze to death!”

“I _could_ ,” Byleth conceded, “but I could also be a chicken.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

“Suit yourself, nerd!” Byleth paddled away in place of a shrug and proceeded to float on her back, taking in the cool night air now that the violence of her dive had subsided.

El, who was terrified on Byleth’s behalf, settled down to a more subdued form of fretfulness, toeing the manmade shoreline so as to keep her daredevil friend in sight. Her lips curled to a pout as she hugged herself tighter. Somehow, despite being fully clothed and dry, El felt and looked colder than Byleth as she swam the cool depths of the lake.

“You know,” El started, though not without a grumpiness to her tone, “when you said you wanted to get rid of your sticky clothes, I didn’t think you meant you wanted to go skinny dipping in a cold lake.”

Byleth paddled softly, finding solace in the free-floating weightlessness of her body suspended in the middle of the lake. A smirk started to form on her face as she eyed El’s silhouette from where she stood in the pier. “I grew up in a small town like this,” she murmured. “It had a lake and stuff…”

At first, El was caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. Tired, cold, and feeling lonely, she decided to not put up a fight and instead sat on the ledge of the pier. Despite her short stature, Edelgard had long legs, and she found some amusement in letting them dangle off the pier, kicking back and forth playfully as Byleth floated nearby.

“Every night, I used to love going swimming at our town’s lake. You could float back and look at the stars.” There was a wistfulness to Byleth’s tone, belying a seriousness that El had never before heard in their weeks of getting to know each other. “My dad and I used to go fishing in that pond,” she added, smiling to herself, “and I would jump in and swim once he said he was ready to head back, just because I didn’t wanna leave yet…”

“You never told me this,” she replied after Byleth had tapered off into a contemplative silence.

“There’s a _lot_ I don’t tell you,” Byleth teased. She swam closer to the shore, swimming until her feet could reach the stony banks of the lake.

“Oh?” Edelgard sensed the provocation in her tone. “Like what?”

Byleth waded towards the pier where El sat perched on the edge. Though the lake was dark from the cloudy night sky, the moon was full and bright. Byleth came into view through the waters’ luminous pallor, revealing the shapely outlines of her figure and the pink-bitten chill of her skin as she edged closer.

“H-hey,” El demurred, “you’re not wearing anything.”

“And you’re not swimming.”

“What does that-...”

A violent pull of her arms cut El’s sentence short. She let out a loud, embarrassing yelp as realization struck and she felt icy waters slap her face.

At first, she felt the weight of her force pull her down, but a sliver of moonlight guided her to where bubbles floated past. Her hand reached out, and before long she felt the tug of Byleth’s hands over her shoulders, lifting her so she breached the lake’s surface until she could once again breathe the crisp, late spring air.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

El gasped in between hitched breaths. She couldn’t see anything, not because it was dark, but because her drenched hair draped over her eyes like unwanted and overbearing tapestry.

“Relax!” Byleth tried to coax her amid her laughter. “It’s just a swim!”

“I could’ve drowned!”

_Maybe at your height-_... Byleth was tempted to say the words, remembering that El lacked the self-awareness to list her height on all social media platforms as 5’2. However, El was furious, and she was already stomping back to shore before she could get a word in.

“Okay! Okay! I’m sorry.” Yet her apology, sincere as it was, carried trace hints of laughter. She trailed El, sidling up to the wooden mast beneath the ledge so they huddled closer. “Look,” she started again, “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just thought you could use a breather from that party.”

‘Breather’ was an ironic word to use, El thought to herself, given where they were. It was enough to let a smirk creep up on her lips, despite her desperate wish to stay angry and pout through the rather insensitive prank.

The water of the lake was deep enough to reach up to El’s chin, rippling close to her mouth and making her desperately aware how much she didn’t like swimming.

“Here, I got you,” Byleth murmured as her hands steadied Edelgard by the waist. “See?” she urged with a smile. “It’s not so bad.”

To that, El couldn’t help but chuckle. “Perhaps,” she said timidly. El was slightly self-conscious that another woman’s hands — naked as the day she was born — propped her up and held her close beneath the floorboards of the makeshift pier.

“You know,” Byleth started again, this time finding the courage for a cheekier grin, “you’re cuter in person.”

“Now you’re just teasing me,” El whined, averting her gaze through her embarrassment.

“No, I swear!” Byleth laughed through her protests. There was a fluttering in her heart as El’s eyes — a softer lavender than instagram filters would show — gleamed at the compliment. Her damp silver hair threatened to shield them, falling from her temples like long, heavy tendrils as Edelgard shifted her posture.

Byleth instinctively pulled those wayward strands aside, letting them drape over the curve of El’s cheek as she absentmindedly murmured, “You’re beautiful, actually.”

El didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t say anything. Instead, her mouth hung back as she stared in muted astonishment. Somehow, she had forgotten how chilly the water was, or how frigid the air above them had gotten. Only the trailing warmth of Byleth’s hand could remind her of what she had longed for, and without thinking, she craned her neck forward, yearning for more of it.

“I-...”

Byleth closed in for a kiss. She felt the press of her chest first, letting her hand fall from where they instinctively shot up in meager protest. She didn’t realize how soft Byleth could feel, even through the rivulets of icy water as they trickled down the nape of her neck.

She sensed the faint taste of something sweet and fruity as she felt the push of Byleth’s tongue. Oddly enough, the searing pleasure of her mouth grazing against hers could only remind El of something not so sinful: a religious text and the words that had always confused her: ‘Your mouth like the finest wine.’

El thoughtlessly pushed Byleth away just as the latter tried to deepen the kiss, cutting short their hapless moment of intimacy.

For her part, Byleth could only stare back, dumbfounded at the stark contrast between the coldness in El’s words and the yearning in her actions. “What’s wrong?”

El’s lips formed an ample pout. There were many things hanging off the tip of her tongue. She wanted to tell Byleth that she wasn’t some cheap hookup or some girl that “B” could easily forget through misdialed numbers or cute Twitter selfies.

“I like you, Byleth Eisner,” El blurted out.

Byleth was very tempted to laugh at her overbearing formality, but there was an earnestness to El’s gaze that brooked no interruptions.

“But I’m not that kind of girl.”

Byleth listened, attentively gazing back as she pulled her hands away. “What do you mean?” she finally spoke up. Her gaze was blank, hardening her otherwise soft features in the dead of the night. “‘Not that kind of girl?’”

“I’m not just some cheap hookup,” El clarified. Her tone was firm and unrelenting, “and I’m not some girl you can just toss aside and forget.”

“That’s what you think? That _I_ think that about you?”

She didn’t clarify any further. What else was she supposed to think? It’s not like Byleth’s social media presence made her think any better. So she opted to stick to the plausible deniability of a non-answer, staring coldly as her own sort of provocation.

For a while, the two said nothing. They heard nothing save the quiet ripples of the water lapping up the pier.

“Well, for what it’s worth,” Byleth said as she broke through their wordless impasse, “I don’t think you’re that kind of girl.”

But Byleth saw through El’s act. She couldn’t blame El for not believing her, so she hazarded another try and drew nearer, seeking to close the gap between them once more.

There was a listlessness in Byleth’s eyes. El saw it and how the reflected moonlight shone luminously in the dark of her pupils. “What kind of girl do you think I am?”

Beneath the water, she felt the tug of Byleth’s hands as she laced her fingers around hers. She was so close, she felt a whole-body shudder as the bare skin of Byleth’s breasts brushed against the drenched fabric of her now sheer dress.

To answer her question, Byleth pulled Edelgard closer. But instead of reaching down for another kiss, she let her lips press close to the lobe of El’s ear, whispering softly, “The kind of girl that I like… a girl that I’ve liked for a while now.”

“You like me?” she asked in somber tones.

Byleth decided this time to let her actions speak in place of disbelieving words. Another hand reached down to the seam of El’s dress, letting the wavy fabric fan out in the water as Byleth hiked it up, reaching between her thighs.

El craned back her neck as she let out a sharp moan, muffled as it was the moment Byleth pressed her lips close for another kiss.

In the heat of the moment, Byleth forgot to mention that she had liked El since that first text, playing the aloof friend all the while pining like some hapless, secret admirer.

For her part, El had never been so grateful that Byleth had texted the wrong number.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! It's been a fun ride writing for Edeleth. Please go out there and let your favorite fic authors know that you enjoyed their work. What makes fandom great is the shared enjoyment of things like this: love, mishaps, and silly little musings on your favorite characters. I hope this contributed in some form or manner.


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